One Size Never Fits All

“Uncle Fatty.”

That’s what a friend’s son called me: “Uncle Fatty.” Not once, but five or six times. He kept saying it over and over and laughing as his parents tried desperately to shut him up.

I wasn’t really embarrassed about it at all. His parents are good friends (I’m pertty sure they know I’m big) and the boy was innocent. The parents were embarrassed; I laughed about it. It wasn’t the first nor the last time a young child had made an observation about my size, and I’m sure it will happen again.

I once had done the very same thing…

When I was about that boy’s age, my family was visiting with my mother’s brother and his family. My uncle was a big man, probably close to 6 feet and 240 pounds. My aunt was oh, at least 300 and maybe closer to 400 pounds. It’s hard to know as she was so much older and she passed away nearly 20 years ago. I hadn’t really seen her since I was a young child due to some familial bickering.

So there we are visiting with my Aunt Pearl and I don’t recall the exact context of course but for some reason I was exclaiming to the world that she was my favorite aunt because she “was so soft.” I was hugging her and rubbing her belly as I said it, too. I sensed that I had said something wrong by the embarrassed laughs, but my aunt, she just laughed and laughed and hugged me closer.

I hope I can always handle children with such aplomb as my dear Aunt Pearl, whose biggest part was her heart.